


In the Land of Gods and Monsters

by iamnightbird



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Stiles, Fic Exchange, M/M, demon!Derek, i dont know how else to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:42:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnightbird/pseuds/iamnightbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles didn’t like surprises. Not since his life took a turn for the weird, Winchester style. Because most surprises since then weren’t nice. Demons? That was one of them. And the kicker was that werewolves could be possessed. Stiles didn’t think that it was possible – that a creature from hell could possess something already dangerous and make it more deadly. Yeah, it made him a little nervous. Or a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Land of Gods and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Did a fic exchange with [Kelly](http://fallinginlovewithyourstiles.tumblr.com/), because she's awesome. We were talking about demon!Derek and Stiles being a bamf. And then this happened
> 
> Please be noted that I don't really watch shows that have demons on it (Like Supernatural, although I plan to and I see a lot of it on my tumblr) and I'm just kind of winging it. And, this is canon at least until after 'Alpha pact', because of blue eyed!Derek.
> 
> Title taken from Lana Del Rey's 'Gods and Monsters.'

Stiles didn’t like surprises. Not since his life took a turn for the weird, Winchester style. Because most surprises since then weren’t nice. Demons? That was one of them. And the kicker was that _werewolves_ could be possessed. Stiles didn’t think that it was possible – that a creature from hell could possess something already dangerous and make it more deadly. Yeah, it made him a little nervous. Or a lot.

They were in what you would call a ‘situation’. Trapped in Deaton’s clinic with a demon in a werewolf. In _Derek_ to be more specific. The man that Deaton had called into town to perform the exorcism was in the corner _very_ dead. Deaton slouched over in his chair, mercifully only unconscious. Lydia, thankfully, was out of harm’s way since she salted all of the doorways and stood in the parking lot – waiting anxiously for _anything._ On the floor nearby where Isaac and Scott were trying to fight Derek lay a heavy set of shackles designed to hold Derek long enough to perform the exorcism – Derek slamming Scott against the wall hard enough for the younger wolf to speckle his lips with blood, breath cackling a little as he struggled to push breaths out past where Derek (or, the demon inside of him) was holding tightly to his windpipe. Isaac scrambling to his feet and trying to pry Derek away. Derek’s breath was heavy on Scott’s throat, fangs bared to the teenager as a growl rumbled through his chest. Blue eyes without the sparkle of Derek behind them scanned the boy under his grip as Scott squirmed.

_“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…”_

At the sudden voice, Derek released Scott quickly – the wolf falling to a crumble on the ground where he dissolved into a fit of coughs. Isaac was at his side in a heartbeat and helping him to his feet as both boys’ eyes snapped to the source of the voice. A low and dangerous growl rose out of Derek as he crossed the room very, very slowly. “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing, Stilinski?”

And, about the same time he spoke, Scott was choking out, “ _Stiles!”_ Because, _what_ was he doing?

The human stood in the center of the room, tasting metallic blood on his own lips. His hair stood wild and askew and his clothes were in a state of dishevel. He focused his weight on one leg, his other pulsing painfully as if his ankle were twisted. The smell of blood was strong off of him and crimson soaked through his clothing. In one hand – the porcelain white of it bruised and stained – he held the tattered, leather bound book that had belonged to the now dead man in the corner. In his other hand, long digits were curled around a once white cross pendant that he had removed from the dead man’s neck – eyes wide and focused on the demon in the room. Before Derek could get to Stiles in one mad leap across the clinic, Isaac and Scott were both grabbing him by his biceps hard and forcing him back. Stiles looked a little unhinged for just a moment as Derek snapped at him, eyebrows chasing his hairline and surprise replacing the very, very obvious anger.   _“Keep going!”_ Scott hissed, voice a little torn hoarse from earlier.

Stiles’ amber eyes darted back down to the book as rage once more overtook his expression.

_“...omnis santanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregation et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domni Nostri Jesu Christi…”_

By this point, Derek was howling. With both pain and fury. Blue eyes had disappeared to make way for an inky black and he was thrashing at the two wolves holding him as he was forced down to his knees. Seething anger directed at Stiles as the teenager recited the words. Ungodly noises were coming from him, even unusual for a wolf and it made Stiles cringe, hatred towards this creature growing hotter inside of his chest. Isaac and Scott were obviously exhausting all of their efforts to keep Derek held down, their clawed hands dug into his shoulders and their other holding his wrists out and away from his body. The atmosphere in the room made his skin crawl and he wanted to shiver.  There was a soft sigh of Deaton stirring in his chair, eyes instantly going to the young, thin boy.

Stiles crossed the remaining space between him and Derek, jaw taut as he screwed up his features in an unknown look of an unreadable emotion. His fingers released the cross that he was still holding to run them instead along Derek’s jawline – the sound that Derek made in response making Stiles’ breathing stutter and it made him want to rip his hand away in favor of it not getting bit off. But, he didn’t move it; instead he pressed it more firmly against Derek’s cheek.

_“…eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Angi sanguine redemptis.”_

Stiles looked away and squeezed his eyes shut at the _wail_ that came from Derek’s body the moment that the last words left his lips – as did Isaac and Scott. Deaton was the only one who watched as the pitch-black fog like substance expelled itself out of Derek – his cries echoing across the walls of the clinic far too long for any of their liking. It was loud enough for even Lydia to hear it outside of the clinic as a police cruiser pulled up right outside. The Sheriff pulled himself out of the car and jogged to Lydia’s side – eyes blown wide with surprise to make it clear that he too heard the cry. “Is... Is Stiles in there?”

Stiles felt himself tense, muscles in his throat working, and he didn’t relax until the godforsaken noises stopped and Derek went lax against Isaac and Scott’s hold – the boys making sure that he didn’t topple over. And he opened his eyes to look down as Derek seemed to lean into the warmth of his hand that was still on his cheek. He saw that Derek’s head was bowed down, lashes closed and fanned out against his cheeks. Stiles was relieved to feel Derek’s pulse still thrumming under his fingertips – albeit wild and soft like he was holding a weak hummingbird in his grasp.

Stiles let out a breath, unsure of whom he was talking to when he said, “It’s over.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr.](http://iamnightbird.tumblr.com/)


End file.
